


The more you sharpen the scissors, the better they cut.

by firstpersonshooter



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Tailoring, based on tailor shop of enbizaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 17:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30126474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstpersonshooter/pseuds/firstpersonshooter
Summary: Certain distress has been interrupting Marcin’s tailoring recently.
Relationships: Marcin "Jankos" Jankowski/Mihael "Mikyx" Mehle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The more you sharpen the scissors, the better they cut.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to ctrlshiftsea for giving my work a check  
> uhhhhhh it was impulse sorry mom

He glanced at his scissors. Oh, what could’ve made them look like this? They seemed to be stained with blood.

These scissors were supposed to cut anything. And so they did. They cut through people. They pierced through throats, in graceful stabs, moving sharply so the blade could explore more of the bleeding wound. They locked on fingers, trying to overcome the barrier of soft skin, only to get to the small, frail bone. They helped with getting nails out of the way, prying them off until they released themselves from the skin, one by one, leaving the hand almost naked. They tore apart tongues, they spiked stomachs and eyes, they slashed through arteries. Always with finesse and awareness, not to damage the clothing.

They should have been enough, but somehow, they weren’t. Perhaps, the finest tailoring in town is not an efficient way to keep your beloved away from cheating.

Not even the elegant red kimono, torn away from the handsome, fair-haired gentleman’s body, when he coughed up last drops of blood. Not even the magnificent green sash, taken from the man who put up the most fight, right after he stopped breathing, the knot on his throat tightening itself. Not even the yellow hairpin, ripped from the henna-colored hair of the cute, scared boy, seconds before the shining blade carved a joyful smile through his lips and cheeks.

What could possibly make his sweetheart stay by his side? 

The smell of metal flew around. Bare tendons. Every single bit of Mihael, resting on the ground, without a single breath. Not even a pulse in the shattered organs. That was what Marcin could call _a beautiful inside._ A delightful one. That amount of skin flayed from a single person could make a fantastic kimono. The corners of Marcin’s mouth curled up, as he left the scene. How ruthless of his love not to recognize him, not to compliment his beauty, not to be faithful to him in the first place. It’s like they have never met. It’s like… they have _never_ met. 

Time to carry on with his hard work, sharpening his scissors once again. 

_The city shivered at its feet, with its people restlessly disturbed about the murder of four people, a happy family._


End file.
